


A Walk in the Park

by IRisEaGLeS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deal With It, F/M, Fluff with more fluff, How did I get one of my favorite authors for this?, I am terrible with tags, I will never compare to niffizzle, Scorpius is too cute for words, Short & Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, check for cavities, four-year-old Scorpius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IRisEaGLeS/pseuds/IRisEaGLeS
Summary: Hermione Granger is stressed, but then she meets a cute little cherub at her favorite park. And like every cherub in history, this little one decides to play matchmaker.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97
Collections: DFW Birthday GOGO Fest 2020





	A Walk in the Park

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niffizzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/gifts).



> This is written for the DFW Birthday GOGO Fest and somehow I ended up with Niffizzle as who I am gifting this to. 
> 
> First, let me apologize that this will never meet your expectations or your standards. I adore so much of your writing, that this gave me heaping loads of stress.  
> Especially after my first draft was over 9000 words over the limit and nothing had happened between our favorite pair. 
> 
> So look for another, very similar, yet very different story sometime in the future dedicated to you, Niffizzle. I hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff.

It was another frustrating day. The Ministry, no matter how much Kingsley tries, can’t find it’s arsehole with two hands and a diagram. I had spent the day filling out the same paperwork three times over, sending it to four different departments, only to have each contradict the other.

And it had been that way for the past three weeks.

You would think that I would have a little sway in the Ministry, but I - Hermione Granger - was pushed aside for one of the more popular and press-friendly members of our trio. I don’t deny Ron or Harry their fame, it just wasn’t my style, and when Ron realized I wasn’t going to just ‘play along’ for the press, we were over.

So I come home to an empty flat and, more often than not, takeaway and a cheap bottle of zin.

Just recently, Harry pulled me aside and suggested that some fresh spring air would do me a world of good. Mind you, this was after he caught sight of my recycling bin after an especially bad week at work.

But I took his advice. Now, before I head home I make a side trip to a small park that I stumbled upon. I would take a couple of leisurely strolls around the grounds, but I seemed to find myself on the same bench overlooking the playground more times than I would care to state. 

During these times, I would stop and ponder where my life made such a hard left turn, ending me here watching other people’s children and not my own. I watch the small families, smiling and laughing, and all I wanted at one point was that small solace.

It was today, after my horrid day at the Ministry, I found myself on the bench once again, head in my hands, choking on the stress the day caused.  Then there was a little boy sitting next to me, dandelion in his outstretched hand, his blue-grey eyes showing complete innocence.

“Will you be my mummy?” His voice was that of a child no more than four, but in his simple sentence, you could tell that he was raised in a proper home.

I take his flower, as my eyes skim the playground looking for the frantic parent of this child. “Where’s you mummy, dear?” I ask.

His eyes start to well with tears as they fall to the ground. “She’s… she’s passed daddy says.”

My heart breaks for this little boy as I take him in my arms and rock him gently, all while looking for the man whose child I hold. 

There is almost no time that elapses before I see a frantic man at the other end of the park calling out. I can barely register what he is saying over the subtle sobs from the little person next to me.

“Dear,” I implore placatingly, “what is your name?”

“Scpus” is what it sounds like.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” and as the words leave my mouth, his whole demeanor changes. He sits up properly, holding his unnaturally blonde head high.

“My name, ma’am, is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.”

At that, I nearly choke as it dawns on me that the man who is rushing my direction is none other than Draco Malfoy.

**< 3 <3 <3**

One minute he was running around, playing with all the other children, the next he is gone. Where in the seven levels of hell did my son go to now? I race from one piece of equipment to the next, hoping that he just has found a new hiding spot for his favorite game of Hide and Seek. 

It must have only been a few, painful minutes before I see the straight back and blonde hair of my son sitting talking to a lady.

Great, this is worse, he’s going to try and set me up with one of his little friend’s moms. Again.

She kneels before my son, Scorpius, and it looks like she is wiping tears from his face.

Fine, this one, if she’s attractive and single might get a coffee date out of me.

Pansy and Daphne are constantly trying to set me up with their extended group of friends. Or those who are still single and interested in men. I learned, the hard way, that I have to get clarification from them before they set me up with anyone. One too many girls-into-girls or guys-into-guys attempts from them nearly broke off our friendship for good. Not that I am against it, it just isn’t my style.

I take a deep breath, trying to control my panic that losing my little boy just caused, as I saunter towards him. I know he sees me, his blue eyes growing in size, but I also hear her whisper that she will make sure nothing happens to him.

Damn, someone that is willing to put my son before me. I don’t know if that tidbit should make me more or less interested in the woman.

“Scorpius,” I begin, my voice low and authoritative, “what have we discussed about running off and talking to strangers?”

“I shall not talk to strangers. It is dangerous and unwise. It is not becoming of a Malfoy.”

He sounds like a little robot, but since his mother’s passing, I have had to instill this over and over. Almost every time we go to the park and he meets a new friend.

I see the woman rise, she’s a tiny thing, with deep mahogany curls that flow down her back. She has curves, the simple navy pencil skirt and ivory blouse show them off. I only can hope that the front is as nice to see as the back.

Before she has a chance to turn around she is already castigating me. “Malfoy,” oh hell, I know that voice and tone, “you will not treat your son so poorly. He was merely playing.”

As she turns, I see my assumption was correct. “Granger,” I reply with my typical child-like snideness.

“A thank you would be appropriate about now,” she holds her head high, looking much too much like McGonagall for any boy’s wet dreams.

“Thank you? For trying to nab my son?” I don’t know where these words are originating, but they seem to flow out of me on autopilot. Where was my near drooling experience as she was wiping the tears off Scorpius’s face?

“I was not,” I see her huff out. “I was just trying to return his kindness.” At that I see her look down at my son with such caring. She holds up a dandelion, “He was kind enough to give me a flower.”

“Father,” the way he sounds when he calls me by the formal tone is painful to hear, and I see Granger flinch at it also, “we discussed the option of me having a new mummy-”

At those words, I nearly choke on the air. “Excuse me, Scorpius? What was that?”

“Father, it is time I got a new mummy. I think Miss Hermimi-

“Hermione” I correct, noticing Granger’s eyes widen as I say it. I just shrug it off.

“Yes, she would be a good option. She is kind and pretty and nice and she likes the playground.”

I look at this little matchmaker questioningly, “How long have you noticed Granger at the park? Better yet, how long has your little mind been concocting this scheme?”

I see Granger chuckle and mutter something about apples and trees.

My little mini-me slides off the bench his backside was plastered to and stands as tall as his little 'three and three-quarters’ self is. The stance is very similar to the little witch beside him, except he doesn’t have his hands on his hips. That’s when I notice the curve of those hips.

Squatting down to his eye level, and so I can get a better view of Granger. Fine, she looks good, I am male, I can admit that, but I am not ready to admit it to her. “Alright, little man, I’m gonna make you a deal. I go out on two dates - one you choose, one I choose. Then we’ll talk some more.”

His little eyes brighten as his head bobs up and down. I see the little cogs turning more and more in his head and I know I am in trouble.

**< 3 <3 <3**

Malfoy. This sweet little angelic boy was Malfoy’s. But after watching the negotiation between Scorpius and Malfoy, I see that he really is a decent man. 

An attractive man. He grew into his features, yet kept that strong but not bulky build. I am female. It has been too long since I have had a decent date, I can admit. And I have eyes. I can look but there is no way he’s willing to touch, no matter how persuasive his son can be.

“I choose Miss Hermimi,” he says with the authority of someone ten times his age.

“Hermione,” Malfoy corrects for the second time. “You choose Miss Granger, eh Scorp?” The little version of Malfoy nods. “I cannot go back on my word.” He turns his attention to me, “That is if Miss Granger would accept. Say maybe Friday at 7?”

By Friday, I was a nervous mess. Work was, well work. I told Ginny to help get me ready for my date with Malfoy right after work - but I guess in Ginny-speak that meant coming over just after lunch with 8 new dresses to review.

I didn’t tell her who the date was with, yet she still managed to slip in a green dress with a subtle black overlay into the mix, which she insisted I wear, after modeling all the options. She did my hair in an updo, something professionally chic. Sliding on my favorite pair of designer heels, I did a quick twirl in front of the toughest critic - my best friend.

“Perfect. Now, who is the lucky guy?” She attempts to pull of nonchalance but she is her mother’s daughter and Molly would need all the details.

I shrug it off, “No one overly special. A guy I met at the park. Actually it was his son that asked me initially.”

“Oh Mione,” her temperament has taken a quick downturn. “No, you don’t want to get involved with someone with a kid already. That can be messy.”

I look chastized. “He’s a widower, Gin. And his little boy, so sweet, asked me to be his mummy.”

She looked like I must have because any reservation went out the window and she was giving me the tightest hug. “You’ll be a great mummy. I really hope you get to be one, one day.”

**< 3<3<3**

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since that first date with Granger and my bloody world turned on its end. Scorpius nags me daily for his visit to the park so he can park my backside next to his ‘new mummy’. 

And I don’t blame the brat. It may be driving me to an early grave, but afternoons watching Scorp play while sitting with Granger just talking is something special. After he’s done with his running around, we take a stroll around the park and Granger asks him about his day - as a normal mum would.

Not that I would know what normal is; my life was anything but normal.

Sometimes she gives him some juice in a box, sometimes it is a bottle of water. Just her forethought on what Scorp, my son, would need keeps me saying yes to the little matchmaker. 

But in three weeks, we haven’t really moved on from that. Yeah, there were a couple of nights where we all had dinner together, Scorp chatting everyone’s ear off. There was the Saturday afternoon at the top of the London Eye where Scorp asked if this is what flying was like, while I held a slightly shivering Granger. That afternoon, as I carried Scorp, my free arm wrapped around her and she laid her head on my shoulder.

I think that is where everything went sideways. That is when Scorp began asking when she was moving in with us ‘because our place is so much bigger than hers’. 

He’s got the cunning of a Slytherin, the balls of a Gryffindor, and the rationale of a Ravenclaw. Where this kid lands is anyone’s guess.

But as I look onto the calendar and see that we are in the fourth week of this whatever it can be called, I realize that he’s right. This is right. We fit. She has been the missing piece of our family. And tonight I am going to firm that up for good.

**< 3 <3 <3**

We wanted simple, what everyone expected was anything but. 

What we got was three people in front of Kingsley, on a snowy Thursday evening at the park it all started at. I wore a simple white dress and fur-trimmed cloak, my men were in matching black suits. Draco was stunning as ever, his chiseled form only accentuated by the modern cut of the Muggle suit, his grey eyes shining with the love I knew they held. The only thing that could have given away our reason for being there was the small bouquet of hand-tied flowers, including one dandelion, that I carried.

There was no big pomp, no Harry and Ginny, no Rita Skeeter, no flashes, no thousand-person reception. There was no orchestra and dancing in some lavish ballroom. There was no seven-course dinner served on a custom china pattern. No eight tiered cake of a variety of flavors. No flower petals and candles dancing in the air.

Eight months after the fateful meeting on the park bench the headline of the Daily Prophet read: 'Draco Malfoy weds Hermione Granger in Secret Ceremony'.


End file.
